开始吧，我的缪斯，开始模仿的歌吧，开始吧，开始吧，开始吧!不要尝试多少忧伤的盖伊，让我像午夜的猫，或柯林斯歌唱。如果在凄美的诗行的围网里，下着跳跃的冰雹，或钻钻的雨;来吧，沉思的忧郁，神圣的力量，和每一团不统一的文字。现在，粗壮的山羊缩回了蜷曲的角，寒冷的猎人旋转着他盘旋的拖把;突然的痛苦迅速地刺穿了所有的玉米，云杉的商人在他的店铺里颤抖。现在年轻的作家们，为出名而疯狂，伸展羽毛，把他带到舞台上，博得一场演出，逗乐全城，骄傲地在扉页上闪耀。现在，裹在九层毛皮里，他娇气的优雅反抗着怒号风暴的狂怒;当暴风雨在他脸上呼啸时，欣喜地发现他裹着斗篷的尸体是温暖的。现在隆隆的马车狂怒地行驶着，满载着城市贵妇的威严，她们的珠宝在俗丽的人群中闪闪发光，激起了奇怪的感情和怨恨的火焰。现在，在平静的地方快乐着的美德，在凡人看来，就像一个高地人，意识到花边的优美，与蔓延的青蛙和闪闪发光的亮片一起闪耀。 Whilst Envy, on a tripod seated nigh, In form a shoe-boy, daubs the valu'd fruit, And darting lightnings from his vengeful eye, Raves about Wilkes, and politics, and Bute. Now Barry, taller than a grenadier, Dwindles into a stripling of eighteen; Or sabled in Othello breaks the ear, Exerts his voice, and totters to the scene. Now Foote, a looking-glass for all mankind, Applies his wax to personal defects; But leaves untouch'd the image of the mind, His art no mental quality reflects. Now Drury's potent kind extorts applause, And pit, box, gallery, echo, "how divine!" Whilst vers'd in all the drama's mystic laws, His graceful action saves the wooden line. Now-- but what further can the muses sing? Now dropping particles of water fall; Now vapours riding on the north wind's wing, With transitory darkness shadow all. Alas! how joyless the descriptive theme, When sorrow on the writer's quiet preys And like a mouse in Cheshire cheese supreme, Devours the substance of the less'ning bays. Come, February, lend thy darkest sky. There teach the winter'd muse with clouds to soar; Come, February, lift the number high; Let the sharp strain like wind thro' alleys roar. Ye channels, wand'ring thro' the spacious street, In hollow murmurs roll the dirt along, With inundations wet the sabled feet, Whilst gouts responsive, join th'elegiac song. Ye damsels fair, whose silver voices shrill, Sound thro' meand'ring folds of Echo's horn; Let the sweet cry of liberty be still, No more let smoking cakes awake the morn. O, Winter! Put away the snowy pride; O, Spring! Neglect the cowslip and the bell; O, Summer! Throw thy pears and plums aside; O, Autumn! Bid the grape with poison swell. The pension'd muse of Johnson is no more! Drown'd in a butt of wine his genius lies; Earth! Ocean! Heav'n! The wond'rous loss deplore, The dregs of nature with her glory dies. What iron Stoic can suppress the tear; What sour reviewer read with vacant eye! What bard but decks his literary bier! Alas! I cannot sing-- I howl-- I cry--